


the bird-understander

by natlet



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 02:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12738858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natlet/pseuds/natlet
Summary: 2x06 missing scene, tomas gets a cuddle and a nap





	the bird-understander

**Author's Note:**

> dear jeremy slater: thanks for your super convenient timeline gaps bro, much appreciated

Tomas tries to get his hands on the truck key, which Marcus is having exactly none of; for a moment they grapple for it, but Tomas is too tired and shaky to keep hold even when he does get a grip, sending it clattering uselessly to the pavement. _We have to go back,_ he's saying, _we have to go back_ over and over like he might not even hear himself and Marcus forgets about the damn key for a minute, grabs for Tomas' wrist instead, pulls him in and pins him with a hand on the back of his neck, his head coming to rest on Marcus' shoulder. 

"Easy," he murmurs as Tomas shudders against him, tense and frustrated and both of them reeling. "Easy, love, we're going to. Not just now, but we're going to." 

"Marcus, I saw - " 

"Shh, shh. I know. I believe you. But you need to rest, Tomas. You're barely on your feet, you're no good to anyone like this." He can feel Tomas breathing warm and damp and quick around the collar of his jacket, Tomas' hand clenched into a fist where Marcus is holding him still. "Just - three hours. Give me three hours and then we'll go there together, all right? We'll be back at the house before dinner, I promise." 

Tomas nods against his shoulder. He never would have made it back to the island - he barely makes it out of Marcus' arms, swaying and catching himself with a hand on the truck's side when Marcus lets him go, and by the time they get back to their motel he's just given up entirely, waiting for Marcus to come round the other side of the truck and help him out. 

No protests from Tomas as Marcus sits him down on the edge of the bed, removes his collar, kneels to untie his boots, motions quick and efficient and businesslike; nothing as Marcus helps him lie down, folds the comforter over him. One step away to go and close the blinds, though, and he says, "Marcus?" 

"Yeah." Back on his knees on the thin carpet, palms pressed flat to garishly bright polyester; an automatic response, an answer to the call in Tomas' voice. "I'm here." 

"Are you afraid of me?" 

_Oh, love._ "No," Marcus says, and lets himself reach out, lets himself run a hand over Tomas' hair. "I'm afraid for you. I'm - afraid of where all of this might lead. But - no. I'm not afraid of you, Tomas." 

"Sometimes, I am," Tomas mumbles, pressing up almost unconsciously into Marcus' touch. "Afraid of myself. Of what might be waiting for me when I close my eyes." 

Marcus tries to smile. "Yeah, well," he says. "Doesn't seem like keeping them open's going to do you much good any more, does it." 

"No." 

"Are you still seeing things now?" 

"No," Tomas says again. "Not since you - " His voice cuts out, but Marcus is certain the smile he gets is much better than the one he'd given Tomas, eye contact or no. "I think I liked it better when you were what I was dreaming about." 

Marcus laughs. He can't help himself. "I'd think that'd be more terrifying than the demons, wondering if you might see this ugly mug every time you fall asleep." 

"Well, it's not." 

He thinks he manages a better smile this time; at least, it's more genuine. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you in a few hours." 

"What are you going to do?" 

"Wait?" Marcus says. He shrugs. "I don't know. Go and find a newspaper. Draw a bit, maybe. Might have a rest myself." 

"Would you - stay with me, instead?" 

"Was only gonna go down to the office," Marcus says. "I'll be ten minutes, I promise." 

"No, I mean - " 

He cuts himself off again, lips pressed together in a thin line, and Marcus wants terribly to run his thumb across the seam, help Tomas work free whatever he's got stopped up in there. He's always known that he'd meet his maker at the hands of a demon, bile and blood and sharp shredding teeth. But these days, he's starting to think his end could just as easily look something like this - red-rimmed eyes, a half-spoken plea. "It's all right, Tomas," he says. "You can tell me."

"Every time I close my eyes I have the visions," Tomas says. "And now I am starting to have them while I'm awake. But you stopped them before, when you touched me, and I thought maybe - I don't know. Maybe you could keep them away." 

"You want me to lie down with you?" Marcus says, uncertainty closing in around his throat. "Is that what you mean?" 

Tomas nods under his hand. "Please?" 

He doesn't know what he's asking for, Marcus thinks. He's exhausted and strung out and terrified, hasn't slept in weeks, demons wreaking havoc in his brain; he's just as likely to wake up and be angry with Marcus for indulging him as he is to thank him. 

"Okay," Marcus says, anyway.

Boots off, jacket shed, blinds shut. Marcus checks the chain on the door and turns back to find Tomas has made a space for him, a pillow and an empty stretch of bed Marcus just fits into. He folds one arm up under his head, and tries not to think of marbled gold in Tomas' eyes. 

"You're going to stay here," Tomas says, his voice low enough Marcus almost feels like he needs to be closer to hear it. "Right?" 

"Right." His cheek sits so neatly in Marcus' palm, strong jaw and rough stubble slotting into place with an ease that suggests that's just where his hand had been meant to be. Maybe that's why he doesn't stop it when Tomas wriggles forward, comforter and all, fitting himself against Marcus' chest. Maybe he's just meant to be there, too. 

"Is that okay?" Tomas whispers, breath warm in the hollow of Marcus' throat. 

He slips his arm around Tomas' waist, hand spread in the center of his back, pulling him in closer. He doesn't know what else to do. "You're stalling," he whispers back, and feels Tomas' mouth curve into a smile against his skin. "It's all right. I've got you. Go to sleep." 

*

Three hours ends up being more like four. Nobody seems to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> as usual [jackie](http://twobrokenwyngs.tumblr.com/) enabled this (her, screaming: "YOU STARTED IT THIS TIME" ok yes fair i did do that)


End file.
